FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Let it be known that this is my first submitted piece, and it is totally unedited and unread. I appreciate all feedback and hope to not only have this cleaned up, but the story continued and finished for all of you.

Thank you,

Noxa

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"An Old Fashioned for the old fashioned!"

The server flashed a flirty smile as she dropped off Charles' drink. Charles smiled and nodded, but didn't hear a word - the music much too loud. It was an accurate statement nonetheless: the young wolf certainly looked old fashioned. Only halfway through his twenties, he was dressed in a pair of dark khakis, brown loafers, and a light pastel polo shirt. Much like his drink, he was totally overdressed for this club. He would have no way of knowing better, this really wasn't his scene.

He looked around the room, situated at a table against the wall looking out into the crowd. Everything around him was a dim, ugly purple set on some sort of dark wood, but it was impossible to tell through the constantly strobing and color changing lights, pulsating each time with the bass of music he had no interest in. Above the bar hung a neon sign in bright, sultry letters reading "The Hole," an obvious double entendre as the bar goers shmoozed and flirted with each other in slurred, vaguely coded language. The dance floor was totally packed, filled with easily a hundred people that looked around his own age, but looked nothing like him, dressed in anything from baggy hoodies and sweatpants to hardly anything at all. He should have just stayed home, he thought to himself. This isn't him.

And if you had asked why he came to this club in the first place, he probably couldn't tell you. Charles was mild-natured guy - an accountant - and a rather proper person, more comfortable in the workplace where the rules of social interaction were rather firmly set and predictable. He couldn't stand the randomness, the chaotic nature of bars and clubs that made him feel unsafe. He watched two foxes, obviously already intoxicated, sling back a double shot each of cheap vodka. He grimaced and took a sip of his drink.

Even if he couldn't explain why he was in the club, he knew he was looking for something. He didn't know what, but no matter how comfortable his life was - no matter how much he truly did enjoy it - there was something he wanted. Why in God's name he had thought that he'd find it in a loud, raucous place like this was beyond him, but as he walked home that night, he couldn't stop himself from stepping in. What was the harm in one drink?

This continued for a half hour; Charles people watched and absentmindedly flipped through his phone while nursing his drink, pontificating to himself about what could possibly be so interesting or exciting about a club like this. But with no real activity or interest to stop him, he finished his drink much quicker than he intended, taking a small sip every couple seconds without even realizing it. He groaned as he looked down and noticed he was drinking what was left of some melted ice cubes. "Well," he figured, "I came in, I had a drink. There's nothing for me here." He began to sit up, but just as he began gathering his affairs, the server had returned, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Oh hey there sweetie, you weren't leaving on us yet, where you? I've got another drink for you!" She said in an upbeat, playfully disappointed tone.

"I'm sorry, excuse me?" Charles replied, a little flustered. He startled easily.

"Yeah, from that man over there!" She gestured vaguely to the bar. It was unclear as to who she could be referring to. "Don't you think you can stay for one more? It's another Old Fashioned!"

Charles thought to himself. He'd never say no to another drink, especially a free one, but getting hit on wasn't in his itinerary, especially from some drunk stranger he'd never met - hell, he didn't even knew what he looked like, considering all he knew was he was one of the three dozen people at the bar. But he could tell his internal vacillating was only irritating the server who had plenty of work to be done, so he smiled and nodded as he took the glass, slinking into his chair as he waited for his mystery donor to reveal himself, secretly hoping he wouldn't show up at all

He wondered what could have possibly made him stand out, outside of obviously not fitting in. He wasn't unattractive by any stretch of the imagination. He was a smaller, slender guy, and though devoid of any distinguishing markings or features, he was undeniably cute. His grey coat held a sheen from his constant maintenance, his dark hair meticulously tousled in a "it totally didn't take me twenty minutes to get it to look this nice," and a glimor to his deep, brown eyes that couldn't be manufactured (and goodness knows he tried.) It's not that he was vain, he just liked to present himself professionally. What's wrong with that?

But his train of thought would be cut short as he heard the scraping of a chair next to him. He turned and found himself staring directly at the chest of someone much larger than himself. He looked up, finding himself eye to eye with a large, gruff grizzly bear. There was little that he could tell at this angle about the man; he was easily a foot taller, that much was obvious, and definitely more than twice the weight of Charles' string bean self. His fur was a dark chocolate brown, but tufted and speckled in places while matted in others, especially around his next and chest. He figured the stranger was some sort of manual laborer; Charles could only assume it was all a result of sweat. What he couldn't pin was the Grizzly's age - though obviously older than the general clientele of the club, which seemed to be no older than Charles himself, Charles could not easily tell much more than that as a result of the constantly changing lights and messy fur that made him look older than he could possibly be. He looked like he was in his late forties, but he'd hate to make that assumption.

"Hey there bud, enjoying the drink?" the Grizzly asked in a tone that, while likely sincere, sounded a little patronizing. The voice didn't shed any light as to his age, especially as he half-yelled over the music. He took a long swig out of a tall glass, probably beer.

"Yeah, thanks," Charles replied, yelling in like. "I like anything with a dark liquor."

"I could tell. You're the only guy in the whole joint ordering an Old Fashioned in a place like this," the Grizzly chuckled a deep rumble of a laugh, which Charles swore made the table vibrate. But of course that was probably just the music. Charles could only respond with a shrug as he took a sip, wondering if he was being harassed. The bear could see the standoffish expression in Charles' eyes, glaring untrustingly, so he extended a paw. "Chip's the name," he smiled warmly.

Charles took the bears paw and found himself crushed inside it. Calloused and weathered, though warm, the bear held his paw like a vice, feeling he could easily be swung like a baseball bat in this situation if Chip was so inclined. "Uhm, Charles," he replied, shaking his hand a little as his grip is released, "nice to meet you."

The bear chuckled again. "Nice to meet ya, Charlie! Sorry bout that. I'm not used to shaking hands with uh... you know, someone like you."

Charles figured he knew what Chip meant by that, but his brow furrowed regardless as he continued to wonder if he was being made fun of.

"Oh come on, I mean a pipsqueak! No offense, of course... but I work the quarry, ain't nobody there any smaller than I am." Chip quickly tried to recover, noticing Charles' quizzical look. He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing, "sorry kid, I come off a little crude sometimes. Actually I come off as a little stupid, truth be told."

Charles laughed and shook his head, taking another sip of his drink as he gestured toward himself. "It's fine, I understand, I really do. I say stupid things all the time just because I didn't think it through beforehand." Chip's expression relaxed, giving a warm smile as the two of them realized there was no hostility. The bear reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and gesturing toward the door. "Want to step out for a second? I need a break away from all this noise."

Charles didn't really smoke anymore since he graduated college, but if it meant getting away from the incoherent screeching of the music he was being subjected to, he could make an exception. Besides, he couldn't leave his new friend at least until he finished the drink Chip had gotten him. "Sure, lead the way," he said, grabbing his coat from the back of his seat and drink from the table as he stands up, eyeing the room. In no reality would he be able to find the door himself.

The bear stood up in tandem, sidestepping Charles' seat as he began to trudge through the crowd, Charles following closely behind. He was amused watching the crowd part like the Red Sea as the big hulking mass of bear simply made the space as he walked. After a couple minutes the two had arrived at an emergency exit, the lights in the signed burnt out and the door itself vandalized. "Don't worry," Chip reassured Charles, "this is the smoker spot these days, they disabled the alarms ages ago." He pushed open the door and walked out, holding it for Charles as he stepped through.

There was little of note outside. The door had led to the alley, where a couple small, old patio tables and chairs scattered around the brick walls without pattern or purpose. A couple lights hung above the doorway, flickering intermittently. A couple more patrons were outside enjoying a cigarette, talking amongst themselves and no more sober than the people inside. Charles appreciated how well insulated the building was; acoustically, he heard little but small bumps of bass from the moment the door closed - finally he had a brief respite from the music. But the building had been so crowded he neglected to realize just how cold it had gotten outside, shivering as he slumped into one of the chairs, zipping up his coat and bundling himself inside it. Chip could only laugh.

"Cold, eh? Never thought about how bad it must be when you're so tiny. I can't feel shit!" The grizzly guffawed, grabbing a nearby chair and pulling it next to Charles, plopping down with a small groan. He pulled his pack of cigarettes back out, taking one and lighting it with a slow, long drag before passing it, and the lighter, to Charles. Charles obliged, doing the same as he held in the smoke for several seconds before letting it pass through his nose. He forgot how much he enjoyed smoking, which is exactly why he tried not to do it. But this was an exception, he figured. Besides, he'd been drinking.

The two sat in silence for a couple minutes, taking drags from their smokes, Chip taking a swig every now and again of his beer. Charles couldn't imagine having an ice cold drink in this temperature. Now that they were outside in lights that weren't flashing and changing color by the second, Charles could finally size up the bear next to him. The bear had come in wearing stained jeans - likely from stone dust and dirt - and a vaguely designed work shirt under his leather jacket. He had obviously walked right into the club from the moment work had let out. But even under all of his clothing he could see that the grizzly was not only big, he was muscular. He did not seem to have the definition of a bodybuilder, but his size was not made up entirely by fat: there was something to back it all up. The man's fur was tangled and matted from a days work, but there was a slight graying of the muzzle that did not come from hard manual labor. The man looked good for his age, but he was definitely older than Charles. Eventually, Chip spoke up.

"So what're you doin' here, kid?"

Charles had dreaded the question, so he played coy. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is you look like you've never left an office in your life." Chip replied rather seriously. "You came to The Hole looking like you just left the golf course, you order a drink I forgot even existed, but you're not dancing and you're not fucking. I don't even think you're drunk!" Charles only shrugged, which seemed to agitate the bear slightly.

"Come on boy, you came here for something. You didn't want to be here, that much is obvious."

"What, a guy can't go to a club for a good time?" Charles replied back with a playful grin, to which Chip growled through a scowl, making Charles recoil.

"You aren't here for a good time though, that's my goddamn point," he huffed, then realized his mistake and sighed. "Sorry 'bout that, shouldn't be taking anything out on you. But you can see what I'm saying, right? This ain't a good time for you, I could tell that from the moment you sat down."

Charles shrugged again, but upon seeing the reaction again from Chip quickly began to stammer, "I mean, I really don't know..." But Chip was adamant.

"You do know, though! You hate it here but you could have left at any point. I bought you a drink and you could have easily walked away, but you stayed. Why? That's my whole question, why?"

Chip didn't know how to pin the kid. He liked to take home a shy boy, or at least a naive boy, but while he could easily put Charles in either category, he just didn't seem to fit. But that only intrigued the bear.

Charles had not answered yet, finally courageous enough to take a sip of his drink, making him shiver in the cold air. Chip continued.

"Look, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But obviously there's a reason that you came in. There was something you must have felt for you to make a detour like this. I've been here plenty to know that your kind wouldn't be here if you didn't have a reason." Again, Charles gave a look of offense, to which the bear growled softly. "You gotta stop that shit, kid. This isn't playful banter anymore. You know what I mean. You could at least do me the courtesy of taking me seriously."

Charles felt bad, finally making the realization that there were no games being played at anyone's expense. Though maybe the grizzly bought the drink with the expectation of a tit-for-tat arrangement, that wasn't his focus anymore. He really just wanted to talk. Charles didn't want to talk about it, about to pose that Chip's guess was as good as his own, but he knew that wasn't the truth. Charles sighed.

"I'm... so boring." He began. Chip tilted his head slightly, but said nothing.

"I love my life. I love what I do. I love my work, I love going to meetings, I love going home to a book and some whisky..." he trailed off. Chip knew where this was going, but wanted to hear it from the young wolf's mouth.

"I love it, but that's because it's comfortable." Charles sighed, shrugging mostly to himself as he took another drag from his cigarette, at this point almost burnt down to the filter. "I just want to feel something that... you know."

Chip finally spoke up. "Know what?"

"I want to feel something just because I want to do it, you know? I want passion, and to make stupid decisions, and act on my emotions, and..." suddenly Charles was whimpering and rambling, giving vague and pitiful anecdotes about his life to the bear's lent ear, cathartic as he finally began articulating things he never thought he could actually say out loud. Chip lit another cigarette for himself and the wolf, listening to the man in a rather heartfelt manner explain just how trapped he's felt in the life he had created for himself, so bogged down by the trauma of his childhood (that Chip couldn't particularly make out giving how vague and blubbery Charles' confessions had become) that he felt unsafe ever doing anything for himself without it being part of some predetermined itinerary.

It was several minutes before Charles had finished. His drink finished and smoke ashed, his stammering finally gave way to small sobs. "Goddamn that liquor," he thought to himself, realizing that without it he would have never laid his heart out on the table like that, especially to a stranger like this. It only made him more upset as his sobs became loud, heaving cries. The rest of the smokers had left by now, they were all alone.

Chip suddenly became very uncomfortable. He had gotten exactly the answer he had wanted, but at that point the answer had become his end game. He didn't know what to do anymore, looking at the young wolf with tears running down his face as he desperately tried to hide them behind his paws. He wrapped an arm around Charles, sighing and rubbing his back as he did so.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pushed ya, kid. We all have our problems, I shouldn't have judged you for trying to solve 'em, ya know?" Chip said, but he got no response outside of half-stifled cries. Without warning, Charles had thrown his arms around the grizzly, burying his face in his chest as he let the cries out. In no other universe would Charles had let this happen, but he couldn't handle it. He hadn't cried like this in years. Chip had never been a shoulder to cry on, so he had no clue how to response. He continued to rub Charles' back supportingly.

After several minutes, Charles pulled himself away, drying his tears with his fingers as he slowly regained his composure, trying to even out his breaths. Finally as he felt in control of himself again, he realized the situation and blushed profusely, turning away in his chair.

"I think-I think I need to go. I'm so sorry, thanks for th-the drink though..." he murmured, standing up out of his seat, his legs shaking as he tried to finish composing himself before letting himself be seen in public, but Chip placed a paw on his shoulder, pushing him back down into his seat without much effort, shaking his head.

"No, no buddy, it's okay, it's okay..." he said unsure what sort of advice to part to the wolf, pulling him closer and rubbing his back once more; it was all he could think of to do. "Sometimes... you know, life gets rough. It's different for all of us. Trust me... I'm not one to judge. I'm just one to get curious, ya know? Sorry if I pried too far in."

Charles shook his head in response, still suppressing small whimpers. "I knew what I was getting myself into. It's fine, really..." He still wanted to leave, but he had never been so open with someone before, and it felt nice to be held by his confidant. He sighed and nosed himself back into the bear's chest, finally able to get his breathing under control as he sighed into his shirt.

Chip didn't know what to do, but suddenly he felt protective of the little wolf in his arms. He didn't want anything to happen to him. So he just leaned back in his chair and held the young man, stroking his back and through his hair, pressing him closer to his chest.

"We can go back in whenever you want, just take your time..." he cooed softly into Charles' ear. But there was no telling where this night could go from here